


love is the color of gold

by silver_atalanta



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, guys GUYS i can't even believe that this show is real it's so magnificent, i can't with this show anymore, i mean a marriage proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_atalanta/pseuds/silver_atalanta
Summary: As Yuuri skates his love out to win gold, Viktor has another piece of gold waiting for him





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know what this is and it has no true plot but episode 9 killed me and I had to write something to deal with the emotions this show puts me through. This writing style might be weird and choppy and sorry for that but my god I needed to get this off my chest. 
> 
> THEY'RE GETTING MARRIED ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

love is gold in color.

When Viktor was a child, taking those first wobbling steps out onto the ice, he honestly couldn’t imagine himself falling in love with ice skating. To be honest, it had terrified him the idea of slipping and falling and injuring himself. 

But then he had seen a woman start spinning, her blades cutting neat lines into the ice he struggled to stand on. The elegant line her back, the arch of her arm—in that moment she was the loveliest thing he had seen and he was enraptured. He wanted to look like that, lines like artwork and movement like water. Something that looks so unattainable and gorgeous, like the moon. 

He so that’s what he did. He overcame his fear and started to spin and then jump, the ice bending to his will as he slid across it day after day, night after night. He wanted to be an artist, not just a figure skater; he wanted people to see his performances and feel something, feel whatever emotion he had poured into his movements. 

At first, all those beginning competitions, it had been happiness. He brought smiles to people’s faces with his innocence and his long hair, with his gentle footwork and bright and vibrant jumps. 

Then came age, and with it a certain jaded maturity. Happiness gave way to things like heartbreak and greed, subjects like passion and love. Ah, love. The hardest thing to skate for when the only thing Viktor thought he could ever love was the ice. He had cut off all his hair for love and still felt nothing, empty, the press of flesh on flesh the opposite of what he was truly looking for but all he seemed to be able to find. 

And with the lack of love came the lack of ideas, the lack of motivation, as the years started to pass. His joints hurt more. The ice was colder than it ever was. 

Yakov told him it was just a phase. He told him that he was being too sappy, too poetic because ice skating is a sport, nothing more and nothing less. But Viktor couldn’t accept that, not at all, and the idea of retirement loomed in his mind more and more as skating started to become more and more frustrating. Lacking. 

But then he had seen a video, poorly shot, and it had changed everything. And suddenly, staring at the lithe figure spinning to his routine, the grace of the arms, the legs, and warmth of brown eyes—

Well, the rest now is history. 

Katsuki Yuuri is no longer the graceful man passionately copying Viktor’s moves in that video anymore. He’s something more. And Viktor is too. 

He stands at the sidelines holding his breath as Yuuri steps out onto the unforgiving ice, arms raised high as he gets into position to start his free skate routine. The last one. This is it, the Grand Prix Final, months of practice and pain and passion all leading up to this moment, the moment where those eyes lock onto Viktor and the piano starts, haunting and lovely like the man who skates to it. 

Viktor, when becoming Yuuri’s coach in the very beginning, wasn’t sure if he could take the suspense of watching someone else. He was so used to being in control that the idea of losing it, of trusting in Yuuri, seemed rather impossible. 

But then there had been talks on a chilly beach, late nights at a table with a pork cutlet bowl. There had been Yuuri listening to every word he said like his they were something sacred and blushes giving way to tender smiles. There had been Yuuri skating for him, all of his eros on show for the world and Viktor left with a warmth inside of him that he didn’t know he could feel. 

Yuuri cracked him open and left his bare. Each movement of his on the ice stunned Viktor because each move he knew—he knows—is all for him. At first as an attempt of gratitude but transforming into something radiant, something that Viktor knew was love even before Yuuri told him. 

Yuuri, who could skate his love so freely in front of millions, and looked at Viktor the way no one else in the world ever could. Yuuri, who Viktor cannot imagine himself without anymore, too enraptured by all the little things that make up his love and the man who made him feel, made him feel that love down to the very marrow of his bones. At this point Viktor even adores the way Yuuri sneezes, his nose scrunching up in the cutest way. 

For Viktor, there is no turning back, his love for Yuuri becoming a part of him just as much as skating is. And as Yuuri starts dancing this one last time across the ice, his eyes chasing to Viktor’s whenever possible, he knows that for Yuuri it is the same. 

It’s why there’s gold burning in his pocket, gold other than the medal that Yuuri is no doubt going to win at the end of this, with his blades cutting through the ice physical evidence of their love. Viktor won’t do it in front of everyone—that kiss in China had been more than enough for the public. No, he has it all planned out and he imagines—he imagines—

He would do it after, Yuuri still pink faced from his win, their room a sanctuary that they’ll escape to. He’ll take the medal from Yuuri’s neck and place it on the night stand so very gently, and then use that same gentleness to gather Yuuri up into his arms. 

Yuuri will sag against him, exhausted but vibrating with joy, and Viktor will simply take a long moment to hold him and breathe him in, this man who loves so strongly, who loves him. 

He will kiss him, long and slow and passionately, until Yuuri is clinging to him and no longer drowsy. He’ll call him his love in Russian, in English, in his broken Japanese. He’ll tell him how his life was empty before him, the truth about those days of him being a champion hiding behind a hollow smile. 

He’ll tell him that there is no going back, that his soul has been overrun, and that Yuuri has won more than the gold in the Grand Prix. He’s won another piece of gold as well, falling to his knee before a teary Yuuri who can hardly believe what is happening. 

He won’t hesitate in giving his hand to Viktor, the ring slipping on perfectly, and when Viktor stands he will throw himself into his arms, a perfect tearful and jubilant mess. He’ll be smiling and Viktor will find it to be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, even more than that hazy perfect memory of seeing that woman spin and falling in love with skating. 

Yuuri tells him that he will get him a ring too, taking his hand to press a kiss like a promise to his ring finger. And then they’ll fall together like always, overcome and overwhelmed and Viktor will run his mouth over every part of his fiancé. He won’t be able to stop smiling. 

He’s smiling now, just thinking about it, his love struck eyes filling with tears as Yuuri finishes their love story in the center of the rink with furious applause from the audience. Yuuri is looking at him, skating towards him, not stopping even as roses and stuffed animals rain down on the ice in appreciation for his stunning act of love.

Viktor’s arms are already open before Yuuri even gets to him, as always, and they fall back together, this time Yuuri being the one to tackle him. Yuuri doesn’t kiss his mouth but he kisses his cheeks, his neck, panting from exertion and rubbing his sweaty forehead against Viktor’s cheek. But Viktor doesn’t mind, keeping his arms locked around Yuuri even as they slowly get back to their feet.

“My Yuuri,” Viktor whispers through the roar of everything around them as the scores are announced, Yuuri’s hand a vice around his own. A personal best, a gold medal—everything they wanted coming true. “I am so proud of you.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri cries into his shoulder, “My Viktor.”

With the ring in his pocket, Yuuri doesn’t yet know how true his statement is. Viktor can hardly contain himself in waiting but he will, for Yuuri he knows that he can. And for now they will celebrate the gold medal, but later—later—

They’ll celebrate the true gold.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending to this is so corny. If this anime doesn't end with an actual marriage I am suing and then crying.


End file.
